


it's all over now, baby blue

by vtforpedro



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Credence Barebone Heals, Fluff, Gellert Grindelwald Being an Asshole, M/M, Obscurial Credence Barebone, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, POV Original Percival Graves, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Percival Graves learns what it means to cherish a soul mark far too late, but there is still a young man in need of help, and he will do what he can to find him and free him of his prison.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 30
Kudos: 145





	it's all over now, baby blue

Graves had gotten his soulmark when he was eighteen years old and in training to be an Auror. He was going to pass his certification soon and it had been like a slap in the face, to feel the itch under his skin and pull his sleeve back, to reveal the mark on the inside of his forearm.  
  
He had spent seven years bragging his way through Ilvermorny that he didn’t have a mark, no one to tie him down, leaving him free to do whatever the hell he wanted. To be an Auror, to be more than an Auror one day, to run the Magical Security department at MACUSA.  
  
It was an unwelcome surprise and it had pissed him off, at the time. He didn’t tell anyone, didn’t want anyone making fun of him, and so he hid it. Never wore anything but long sleeves, told anyone he slept with that his soulmate had died, ignored their sympathetic frowns, the way they told him he could still find someone, still fall in love.  
  
Not only did he not want a soulmate, but his soulmate was eighteen years younger than him. He’d gotten it the day they were born, Christmas Eve, and that was another slap to the face. Even if he entertained the thought of finding his soulmate, he’d have to wait another damn eighteen years for it.  
  
So Graves had pushed his soulmate to the back of his mind and there they remained, for a very long time. He ignored the pain that came, pain that was not his own, suffered it almost every day, but he kept it locked away the best he could.  
  
He did what he promised to do when he was eleven years old, to all of his fellow students, to Seraphina, who had been there with him since the beginning. He rose through the ranks and became Director when he was thirty, the youngest to get there so far.  
  
Seraphina had become Madam President Picquery not long after.  
  
She’s his closest friend and she doesn’t know he’s got a mark on his arm, would never know, as far as he was concerned.  
  
The pain had gotten worse but he was so used to ignoring it that he let it slide off his heart as he tried to live his life.  
  
When he’s a little older, a little wiser, a little less reckless, it keeps him up at night. He starts trying to reach for them then.  
  
When he’s thirty-seven, he spends his nights staring at the ceiling, knowing his soulmate is nineteen years old and out there somewhere, suffering immense pain, and that he has not tried to rescue them from it, even if he’s reaching for them.  
  
Him.  
  
Graves knows his soulmate is a man now, not a boy any longer, but the suffering doesn’t stop. He thinks if he believed in hell, he would have a ticket downstairs, the way he’s ignored it.  
  
It’s not like he knows how to find his soulmate, but he could have tried, could have found a way that was different than the usual one. Could have been less arrogant, less ambitious and selfish, could have rescued a child from harm, could still rescue a young man from the pain he’s in.  
  
He dreams of him sometimes. Dark hair, pale skin, fear in deep, brown eyes, but he never gets a clear picture of him.  
  
Sometimes he hears him scream _please!_ and wakes up in a cold sweat, the plea bouncing around in his skull, and he staggers out of bed and grabs his wand and doesn’t know what to do.  
  
For all the magic he has, he can’t know where he is, because his soulmate hasn’t reached back. Must be too like Graves, not wanting the connection, and he thinks that helped harden his heart for a while.  
  
That his soulmate didn’t care to reach for him, so he didn’t care to reach back.  
  
It’s why he would be so difficult to find and he wishes he would reach for Graves, so he could help, so he could stop hearing his screams.  
  
Graves thinks that, the Thestral on his forearm, is fitting for his soulmate. An omen of bad luck, of death, and he often looks at it, when he’s alone at home, stares at its milky white eyes and wishes he had done better.  
  
He thinks one day the bond will break, not because his soulmate wants it to, but because he’s going to die.  
  
It’s a thought that haunts him, a few months before his soulmate’s twentieth birthday.  
  
August is hot and humid but he spends a lot of time inside MACUSA, reading reports and giving a green light to his Aurors to perform raids or arrest certain individuals. He reads the paper every day, which focuses more on Europe than America these days, and stays in contact with the Ministry of Magic.  
  
Gellert Grindelwald is wreaking havoc over there but they tell him they won’t be surprised if he turns his gaze westward and Graves grimly thinks they might just be right.  
  
So when it goes quiet in Europe, for a few weeks, Graves is on edge, waiting to get a report about the first murders in America, if he’s come here.  
  
Fontaine talks him into drinks one night, though he is loath to drink outside of his apartment these days, but he goes and has a few doubles of Pure Malt and listens to Fontaine rant about the state of the world. He doesn’t push Graves into conversation, knows Graves would curse him if he did, but he does feel like his heart has steadily righted.  
  
They leave late that night and once Fontaine has Disapparated, off to his home, to his wife, Graves is about to do the same.  
  
The curse hits him before he can, so violently and unexpectedly, and he tastes blood in his mouth as he is knocked a few feet forward, into the alley.  
  
He hits the ground hard and can’t move as fast as he’d like to, because he’s had a hole blown through him. It’s a shocking realization, the sudden cold grasp of death’s hands on his shoulders, and he only manages to roll over and look up at the approaching figure.  
  
The blood loss is immense, fast, and he has no strength to reach for his wand.  
  
As he watches the man step closer to him, he’s not really surprised to see who it is.  
  
Grindelwald takes his wand and points his own at Graves and Graves watches him, heart burning with hate, because he never got to save him. Never got to find him, take him away from the hurt and the pain, the heartache, and his soulmate will feel this. Will already be feeling this, before the connection is severed.  
  
With a flick of his Grindelwald’s wand, Graves’ world goes black.  
  
——  
  
Graves wakes up and it takes him a while before he realizes it. It’s cold, shockingly cold, and damp, and smells of stale water and rotten wood.  
  
He hopes it might be hell, but he is too aware that hell is the real world, and he’s still in it.  
  
Looking down at his abdomen, he can see that his clothes are a ruined, bloody mess, but he’s been healed, mended perfectly. Blood has been put back in his veins and he is wholly alive.  
  
Graves looks up and into Gellert Grindelwald’s cold eyes.  
  
“Hello, Director,” he whispers, but it echoes in here, in this damp, cold room.  
  
Graves feels weak, despite the fact that he knows he’s in good health. His mind feels weak, like it’s been rooted through, all of the compartments explored, ransacked and his most valuable possessions have been taken from him.  
  
Grindelwald has broken down his defenses, easy to do, if he had kept Graves on death’s door for a while. He’s seen everything, Graves knows, he’s seen his entire life, and he knows why he wanted to.  
  
Knows he’s going to walk into MACUSA in the morning with his face and take what he wants from there too.  
  
But the only thing he cares about now is his soulmate. Graves has not died, but he’s in pain and he knows that his soulmate must feel it. Must wonder what has happened to him, to make him suffer similarly to himself.  
  
“Imagine my surprise, to see that you have yet to meet your soulmate,” Grindelwald says silkily. “That makes it easier. They do so tie us down.”  
  
“Who’s yours?” Graves asks, his voice rough and hoarse. “They get tired of looking at your ugly face?”  
  
Grindelwald merely smiles, coldly. “I am going to keep you alive for some time, Director,” he says. “An Obscurus has shown themselves in the two days you have been unconscious. A perfect welcome to America, I think.”  
  
Graves frowns a little. “What the hell would you want with an Obscurus?” he asks. He knows it’s true, Grindelwald has no reason to lie to him. “They’re only a child.”  
  
“A child that can be taught to control what they are,” Grindelwald says. “A child that will one day be an adult. More powerful than you and I combined, perhaps. The perfect weapon.”  
  
“You think you have what it takes to charm a child?”  
  
“I think _you_ do,” Grindelwald says with a wider smile. He grabs a cup that’s on a low stone table and drinks from it.  
  
Graves watches as Grindelwald becomes him and idly thinks about how much he hates Polyjuice Potion and the bastard that created it.  
  
“I do have a much nicer face,” Graves says. “They’re going to see right through you. Not the child, maybe, but MACUSA.”  
  
“Will they?” Grindelwald asks, in Graves’ voice. “Or are they going to see the same cold man they’ve always seen?”  
  
Graves’ nose twitches a little and he shifts his position, feels the shackles around his wrists. Grindelwald is right, of course, but he does have faith that Sera and Fontaine will see through him. He’s not a cold-blooded murderer, there’s still warmth in him, warmth he doesn’t think Grindelwald can portray well.  
  
So he’ll bide his time.  
  
Grindelwald takes a few flasks of the potion and tucks them away. He smiles at Graves.  
  
“A visit home, first, I think,” he says. “You are so very fashionable, I had best look the part. I shall see you soon, Director.”  
  
Graves watches him as he leaves down a hall, out of sight, and he hears the sound of a door being closed. He tries then, to free himself, but the shackles have been enchanted to not break.  
  
Other, heavier enchantments have been cast on the room and without his wand, he has no chance to break any of them. He wants to scream and feels tears burning in his eyes as he looks around. But this is Gellert Grindelwald, he knows.  
  
There will be no getting out of here unless he takes Graves out or someone comes to free him.  
  
So Graves will wait and perhaps try to fight Grindelwald when he comes back. He’s taken enough Polyjuice for a few days and Graves sees a bucket of water nearby, knowing it’s so he won’t get dehydrated.  
  
He might have refused to drink it, if he didn’t have a stronger reason to get out, rather than his own life.  
  
He has a soulmate, a soulmate whose very soul is tired and angry and in pain, burning away in Graves’ own chest, more powerful than usual. It must be because of what he felt happened to Graves and Graves tries to reach for him, but he doesn’t get any response back.  
  
Graves tilts his head back against the stone wall and closes his eyes.  
  
He refuses to die here, in this rotting room, killed by a madman, before he gets the chance to meet the one he should have found a long time ago.  
  
——  
  
Graves can’t surprise Grindelwald and Grindelwald only gets close enough to rip hairs out of his head. He can’t do anything to harm him and Grindelwald seems amused by his frustration, until Graves has a few choice words for him and is fairly sure Grindelwald breaks his jaw after.  
  
But he heals it before he leaves and Graves thinks he must rely on Seraphina now.  
  
She doesn’t come.  
  
For two weeks, Graves sits in his prison, weakening with barely any food to eat and the sharp pain in his chest.  
  
His soulmate is still hurting and yet it feels lessened and he doesn’t know why. Pain still flares up, the same old pain he’s been feeling since his soulmate was seven years old, but it goes away more quickly.  
  
It goes away more quickly until one night anyway. One night Graves is counting the stones built into the ceiling above him when a searing hot pain bursts through his chest, into every fiber of his being, his brain on fire.  
  
He hears someone screaming, thinks it must be him, and the pain seems to last for hours. It’s not a Cruciatus Curse, but something else, something deeper, something personal. It’s his soulmate and Graves screams, because he is in pain, because he may be dying.  
  
And it vanishes, as quickly as it had come, and Graves finds himself lying on the ground, gasping for breath, tears on his cheeks, wrung out and trembling.  
  
His soulmate isn’t dead. His heart is still beating, hurting, and Graves reaches for his sleeve, pulling it down with some difficulty, as much as he’s shaking. The Therstral is still there, as inky black and stunning as the first time he saw it.  
  
Graves doesn’t know what’s happened. He doesn’t understand this pain, this pain that feels physical and emotional and beyond anything either of them have encountered.  
  
For a brief, terrifying moment, Graves thinks Grindelwald has found him. Tortured him, maybe, because he knows he’s Graves’ soulmate.  
  
But that’s not it either. No... he thinks he knows exactly what it is.  
  
It’s confirmed for him, when Grindelwald comes again, two days later, more lively than he has been.  
  
The Obscurus is hurting terribly, he says, and he is getting closer to finding them.  
  
“How do you know?” Graves asks quietly after Grindelwald has torn out more of his hair. “How do you know they’re hurting terribly?”  
  
“Two nights ago there was an attack on a Muggle. The child killed them,” Grindelwald says. “They grow stronger, the more they hurt, and they will be looking for someone to show them kindness.”  
  
Graves thinks he might have expected the truth all along, but he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t show that he knows he is connected to the very person Grindelwald is looking for. Not a child, but a nearly twenty year old man, who has been in pain all his life.  
  
He might not even know he’s a wizard and if he does, the magic in him has been repressed enough that it’s gone wild and uncontrollable and when Grindelwald tsks at him for the tears in his eyes, he wants to laugh.  
  
He isn’t feeling sorry for himself or a young child that doesn’t exist. His soulmate hasn’t reached out to him because he may not even know how. He may not know what the mark on his skin means, he may not know why he feels emotions that aren’t his own. Graves had pushed him out of his mind because he expected a soulmate would be a burden, but he’s left him to rot in whatever situation he’s in, far worse than Graves has been thinking.

And because his soulmate felt him dying, he pushed the Obscurus out of him.  
  
“I’ve enlisted a young man’s help. I believe he’s been touched by the child,” Grindelwald says. “A damaged boy, possibly a Squib, so very easy to manipulate. He is surrounded by children often, he feeds the orphans of the city. One of them is the child and I will save them soon.”  
  
“You going to kill him when you’re done manipulating him?” Graves asks, but he really wants to say _you’re the stupidest bastard I have ever met and I’m going to kill you myself._  
  
“His mother will do that for me someday,” Grindelwald says dismissively. “He’s growing very fond of your face, Director.”  
  
It’s supposed to make his skin crawl and he supposes it does, in a way.  
  
“What’s his name?” Graves asks boredly.  
  
“Why?” Grindelwald asks all the same, suspicious.  
  
“Just wondering who I’m going to have to apologize to once I get out of here and blast you to pieces.”  
  
Grindelwald tsks. “You will be bone in here before someone finds you, Director,” he says as he adds Graves’ hair to more flasks of potion. “Credence is his name. _Belief in something as true._ Imagine that.”  
  
“A cruel irony,” Graves says and closes his eyes as Grindelwald chuckles his agreement.  
  
He smiles when Grindelwald leaves.  
  
——  
  
The next time the pain comes, Graves isn’t sure he’ll survive it, despite trying to prepare himself for it.  
  
It’s violent and it’s angry and his soulmate is terrified and out for vengeance, he thinks. Graves screams as it burns through him, but he tries to accept it, as well. Tries to bring it into his own veins, into his own heart, some of this power. When the pain hits its peak, Graves reaches for his soulmate, reaches for him and hopes he feels his touch. He thinks he must, a soft hand against his, and that is when the pain explodes outward.  
  
The room shudders as a powerful surge of magic bursts through it and Graves screams all the more, because he is sure he is dying, his skin on fire, and a dagger in his heart.  
  
But then it’s gone.  
  
Graves gasps as he hits the ground hard, on his shoulder, shaking again, magic strong in his veins. He feels it running through him, the way it hasn’t in weeks, and despite being weakened by what his soulmate has just gone through, Graves presses his hands against the stone floor and pushes himself up.  
  
The shackles are gone, broken into numerous pieces, steaming with heat where they’re scattered around him. The enchantments in the room have been broken as well and Graves staggers to his feet, grasping at the wall so he doesn’t topple over.  
  
“Credence,” he whispers. “Hold on a little longer.”  
  
Graves hurts all over, he’s weak, thinner than he’s ever been, but the magic is there. His magic, like a warm blanket, comforting and keeping him protected. He doesn’t have his wand but he doesn’t think that’ll slow him down.  
  
Because he’s angry. He’s more angry than he’s been in all his life. He’s angry at himself, for letting this happen, for doing this to his soulmate. He’s angry with everyone at MACUSA for not seeing an imposter and he’s angry at Grindelwald most of all, for turning his and his soulmate’s life upside down, before they’ve even met.  
  
Graves opens the door to freedom and walks up slimy stone stairs. It’s dark, but he can smell pine trees and a lake, hear its water lapping at the shores. He looks up at the stars, the moon, such an enchanting sight, one he’s taken for granted. But he doesn’t have time, doesn’t have time to hide away and heal, because Credence is actively in danger.  
  
“Fuck,” Graves says as he stands there, trying to keep himself on his feet.  
  
He tries twice, but he usually Apparates with a wand in his pocket. He can do it without one, he knows, but he’s weak and underfed and it makes him more angry.  
  
“Anger, don’t fail me now,” he grunts.  
  
Graves closes his eyes and imagines the Woolworth Building and turns.  
  
With a _crack,_ he’s there.  
  
He feels queasy and stumbles around until he catches himself on the building, and sees the doorman standing by the revolving doors staring at him in shock.  
  
“Night shift in?” Graves asks through gritted teeth.  
  
The doorman merely nods, continuing to gape.  
  
“Tell Jauncey to get her ass down here and bring me an extra wand, powerful.”  
  
“But sir—”  
  
“Do I look like I have the patience to argue with you, Heath?”  
  
“No, sir,” Heath mutters and walks through MACUSA’s entrance.  
  
Graves leans against the side of the building, his nerves on fire, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and he waits for Jauncey. She appears a few minutes later and gasps when she looks at him.  
  
“Percy, what in Merlin’s—”  
  
“You got that wand?” Graves asks.  
  
“Yes, sir,” she says as she approaches him, handing a dark wand over.  
  
He takes it and glances at it, nods his approval. “There’s been an imposter wearing my face for a few weeks now,” Graves says conversationally and smiles as Jauncey’s mouth falls open. “If I don’t demote every single one of you, consider yourself lucky.”  
  
“Where is he? Who is he?” Jauncey asks as he pushes himself away from the wall. “Sir, let me call everyone down, we can do this together.”  
  
“Forgive me for doubting your ability to do anything together,” Graves says. “But he’s mine.”  
  
And Graves Disapparates and follows the pull of magic, so strong and dark and overwhelming, guiding him the way nothing has before.  
  
The magic is his soulmate’s, is the Obscurus, is Credence, and Graves appears on a dark street. He looks up at a home, dilapidated and half destroyed. He feels the magic in there and grips the wand tightly in his hand as he moves forward.  
  
Grindelwald is strong, but he’s also a fool, and Graves is as angry as his soulmate.  
  
He enters the house and hears the creaking of footsteps above him, walking to the stairs and walking silently up them. There are voices then, a soft one, and a stronger one, his own, he thinks with a sneer.  
  
“—a Squib, Credence. I could smell it on you the moment I met you.”  
  
Graves sees red then, hearing his soulmate’s name out of the mouth of Grindelwald and he continues up the stairs, as he listens to Grindelwald abandon Credence. As he feels anger grow in his chest, anger that is not his own.  
  
Grindelwald’s footsteps fade across the home as Graves continues his way up the stairs and when he gets to the last flight of stairs, he sees him for the first time.  
  
He’s young, so young, dark hair and pale skin, tears on his cheeks. Graves moves and Credence’s eyes snap to him, widening in shock.  
  
Graves puts his finger over his mouth and shakes his head.  
  
Credence backs up, tripping on the last stair and falling onto his hands, and he gapes at Graves as he walks up the stairs. Graves points in the direction Grindelwald went and Credence nods jerkily, blinking, like he’s trying to blink Graves out of his existence.  
  
He smiles a little and squeezes Credence’s shoulder as he walks past him.  
  
Graves follows and hears Grindelwald speaking to someone. When he steps in the doorway of a small room, he sees himself, kneeling down and holding his arms out, trying to coax a child that he can’t see out from hiding.  
  
He lifts his wand and sees Grindelwald stiffen, but he flicks it before he can move. Red light bursts from the wand and hits him with such force that he’s thrown into the wall, crashing into furniture, breaking a window, the shatter of glass and a girl’s scream loud in the small room.  
  
Grindelwald falls to the floor in a heap, unconscious from the stunning spell, and Graves steps forward, flicking his wand again, so he’s bound tightly with rope. He shoves his own coat aside and digs out two wands, taking them and stepping back. He takes his own in his hand and points it at Grindelwald and thinks that he could easily do it. Easily stop him, here and now, and no one would blink an eye.  
  
He could make him pay for everything he’s done, in Europe, here, to Graves and Credence. It would be so easy.  
  
But Graves hears a girl crying and merely flicks his own wand, so right in his hand, despite what it’s been used for, and binds Grindelwald’s mouth.  
  
“Modesty,” he hears Credence’s voice at the doorway.  
  
The girl leaves her hiding place and runs for him, sobbing his name, and Graves looks back at them.  
  
Credence is holding the girl in his arms and is staring at Graves, pale as a ghost, looking between the Graves on the floor and the Graves standing above him.  
  
“I promise I look as good as he does when I clean up,” Graves says and turns to the window. He casts his Patronus, not fully formed but numerous different balls of silver light, to quite a few different people, and keeps his wand on Grindelwald otherwise. But his Stunner is powerful, despite his weakened state. “Are either of you injured?”  
  
“No,” Credence says and sounds tearful. “What’s going on, Mister Graves?”  
  
It does make Graves’ skin crawl, the reminder that Credence knew who he was before he had the pleasure of meeting him in return.  
  
“This is a very dangerous man,” Graves says. “He’s been pretending to be me for a few weeks now.”  
  
Graves hears the _crack_ of Aurors appearing down at the street below and glances at Credence, who has also heard and looks more fearful.  
  
“Credence,” Graves says quietly. “You’re not in danger. We can help you.”  
  
“I don’t think anyone can help me, Mister Graves,” Credence says and squeezes Modesty more tightly to him, her arms around his neck. He flinches, when he hears footsteps below.  
  
Graves moves closer and Credence steps out into the hall. He points his wand at the stairs as he hears people coming up them. “Who’s leading the charge?” he yells.  
  
The footsteps stop. “Who do you think?” is the dry reply he gets.  
  
“I don’t know, Fontaine, you let someone run around wearing my face for the last three weeks. Maybe I’m a little suspicious.”  
  
“Ask me what you need to and punch me later then.”  
  
“What was her name, that woman we caught in Montana, back in eight?”  
  
Fontaine groans. “The bane of my existence, Percy, the way you never let me forget her,” he says. “Coral Shrew.”  
  
“Would you say that name aptly described her?”  
  
“She couldn’t possibly have been born into a better name.”  
  
“Get the fuck up here and arrest this man,” Graves says and holds his hand up to Credence as he backs away. “They’re Aurors. Law enforcement, Credence. To arrest the man in this room.”  
  
Graves looks in, sees that Grindelwald is still out, and watches a stream of Aurors come up the stairs and walk into various rooms. Fontaine approaches and looks Graves up and down with a grimace.  
  
Graves merely smiles wryly and moves away as his best move into the room to take Grindelwald into custody. He puts the wands away and turns to Credence, who is still holding Modesty, backed into the corner of the landing, his eyes wide and terrified.  
  
“Credence,” Graves says and approaches him, holding his hands up. “It’s okay now. You’ll be okay now.”  
  
“He was never Mister Graves, was he?” Credence asks and Graves can see he’s trembling.  
  
“That would be me,” Graves says. “He’s a powerful wizard from Europe named Gellert Grindelwald. He was trying to find a child that would have helped him become even more powerful. My position in MACUSA allowed him to move undetected.”  
  
Credence’s eyes dart away as he rubs the girl’s back. “Modesty isn’t who he was looking for.”  
  
“No,” Graves agrees. Credence looks at him, more fearfully now. “You’re not in trouble. We’re going to help you.”  
  
“How?” Credence whispers.  
  
“In any way we can,” Graves says.  
  
“Mister Graves, sir?”  
  
Graves turns and looks at Tina Goldstein approaching him. She won’t meet his eye and he suspects that’s going to be happening for a while. But she looks at Credence and Graves sees that he recognizes her.  
  
“Credence, it’s going to be okay now,” she says. “That man was lying to you. I’m so sorry that he was. But this man, the real Mister Graves, will ensure you’re well taken care of.”  
  
“What about my sister?”  
  
“At your side at all times, if you want,” Graves says. “How about we get out of here and go outside for some fresh air?”  
  
Credence nods quickly, looking like he’d like nothing more than to get out of this home crawling with wizards. He lets Tina approach him, doesn’t flinch under her touch, and she guides them down the landing and then down the stairs.  
  
Graves glances in the room and Grindelwald is gone, off to MACUSA to be revealed and interrogated. He would go himself, but he has something far more important waiting for him.  
  
Once he’s had a few words with some of his Aurors, all of whom have trouble meeting his eye, which he’ll deal with soon, he leaves the home and steps outside. Tina is standing with Credence and his sister and there are two Healers speaking with them.  
  
And Seraphina Picquery is standing not far away, staring at him as he walks out of the home. Her lips are pursed and she holds her head high, but he sees the brightness in her eyes.  
  
He’ll deal with that later too.  
  
Graves walks to Tina and sees Credence look at him, warily, and can’t blame him.  
  
“Sir, we need to get you to St Lyptus’,” one of the Healers says. “You need various treatments.”  
  
“In a minute,” he says as he looks at Tina. “Goldstein,” he says and frowns as she flinches at the sound of his voice. “I want you to stay with Credence and his sister. They’re to go to St Lyptus’ as well.” He looks at the Healers, who nod at him.  
  
“Is that wise?” Seraphina asks as she approaches, her eyes on Modesty, who shies away and presses her face into Credence’s side.  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows at her. “Where else would you suggest, Sera?” he asks and doesn’t hide the way he spits her name.  
  
She looks at him evenly. “I’m sorry, Percy,” she says. “But I have to think about—”  
  
“They’re going to St Lyptus’,” Graves says lowly. “Or I will give you my formal fucking resignation at this moment for the continuing gross incompetence of MACUSA.”  
  
No one moves. Sera merely stares at him before she closes her eyes and nods once, looking at Credence and his sister. “I understand how unusual and frightening this must be to you both. The hospital is safe and we will aid you there. Miss Goldstein, please ensure their comfort.”  
  
Their monitoring, more likely, and he wants to laugh, because she thinks the Obscurus is the girl, just as Grindelwald had. Graves can see it in Credence’s eyes, the fear, the doubt, the urge to run away but knowing he can’t.  
  
Seraphina leaves and Graves bats away the Healer that begins to wave her wand over him.  
  
“I promise you that you both will be safe now,” Tina is saying, to Credence and his sister. “Will you come with me, to the hospital, Credence? Modesty? We can cure many things there.”  
  
That puts some hope in Credence’s eyes and it makes Graves’ heart ache, for what he knows Credence wants healed. But he won’t find it at St Lyptus’. Graves isn’t sure where he’ll find it, but he’ll ensure he does.  
  
Credence eventually nods. “Modesty, it’s okay now,” he says quietly. “Tina will help us, like she tried to before.”  
  
Modesty looks out at Tina, her eyes red, but she nods.  
  
A Healer and Tina take them away, likely to get a taxi or other transportation, and Graves watches them go, as the Healer continues assessing his damage.  
  
“Well enough for Apparition. Ready, sir?” she asks and holds out her arm.  
  
“As I’ll ever be.”  
  
——  
  
Graves might have been well enough for Apparition, but the exhaustion and weakness catches up not long after, and he’s confined to a hospital bed and forced to drink a multitude of potions that’ll get his strength back up and encourage muscle growth.  
  
They heal nicks and cuts and he shaves and does what he can for the patch of hair missing from his head. They’ve taken his wand and Grindelwald’s wand, to go through the spells used, and he deals with it, because he was already missing his wand for weeks anyway.  
  
He still stretches his fingers occasionally, the loss of it strange and nearly unbearable when he wants to escape St Lyptus’ and go to MACUSA and tear Grindelwald apart himself.  
  
Graves couldn’t care less that he’d been impersonating him at MACUSA. He cares what he did to Credence during it and the desire to see Credence is far stronger than his anger with Grindelwald. But Grindelwald had been manipulating him for nearly three weeks, Tina tells him, promising him things. He hadn’t known he was a wizard until Grindelwald had found him and Grindelwald had capitalized on that with fervor. Tina says what he had, that his mother is who has been hurting Credence all this time and that she’s dead now, along with his other sister, and Graves keeps it to himself, when she mentions the Obscurus, that it was Modesty all this time.  
  
Tina only wants to help, he knows, and he’ll tell her soon, but he needs to speak to Credence first.  
  
He’s not particularly sure how to go about that. Credence may not have known Grindelwald all that well, or who Grindelwald was pretending to be, but he knows the face of the man who betrayed him.  
  
Not to mention the fact that they’re joined by their very souls.  
  
But the idea that Credence may lose control, here, spurs him on. He won’t have Credence locked in a cell, but he needs to make sure he’s protected, that everyone is protected, all the same.  
  
So Graves leaves his room in between shifts so neither of his Healers yell at him and goes down the sunny hallway, letting his heart guide him. He’s on the permanent residence and spell damage ward, the same as Credence and Modesty, and he stops just outside of an open door.  
  
He takes in a deep breath before he steps into the doorway and looks inside.  
  
Credence and Modesty aren’t in their beds, they’re not particularly wounded or ill, but there is a sofa in the corner of the room, and Credence is reading to Modesty from a book. They both pause and look up at him, their eyes wary.  
  
Graves notes dryly that Credence has also insisted on a long-sleeved shirt and they are wearing the same hospital clothes, soft cotton shirts and pants.  
  
“Wondered if I might have a few minutes of your time,” Graves says as he looks between them.  
  
Modesty glances at Credence and he smiles, a little pained. “Alright,” he says and closes the book, setting it aside.  
  
“Thank you,” Graves says and moves into the room, to one of the beds, sinking down onto the edge of it with some relief, because his muscles are still trying to get back to where they were. “How are you two feeling?”  
  
They shrug. “Better, I think,” Credence says quietly. “Now that we understand what happened.”  
  
Graves looks between them and nods. “I’m glad Tina was able to explain it to you,” he says. “I’m sorry, for what you both had to see that night. I’m sorry that you had to find out about your world, Credence, in the way that you did.”  
  
Credence looks away, biting his lip. “I’m only glad that it’s still real, even if he was lying about other things,” he says. “Not that I really belong in it anyway.”  
  
“You do,” Graves says.  
  
“You know it’s not Modesty who did those things,” Credence says, a little broken, looking down at his lap.  
  
Modesty frowns as she looks at Credence, then at Graves. “Please don’t tell them, Mister Graves. Credence didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”  
  
“I know he didn’t,” Graves says. He might be wrong, but he doesn’t find that he cares if Credence meant to or not, not when he’s been feeling the pain that woman put him through for the last thirteen years. “He’s not going to be in any trouble, Modesty.”  
  
“I can’t control it,” Credence says and sniffs. “I should tell them. So they can… I don’t know, but I should tell them. So I don’t hurt anyone else.”  
  
“I want you to leave that to me, Credence,” Graves says. Credence looks sharply at him and he smiles faintly. “I’m an important man in MACUSA and they owe me a lot. They’ll listen to me when I tell them the truth and we’ll use everything in our power to help you.”  
  
“Tina told me that… that she knows a man who might be able to help.”  
  
“Yes, she told me that as well,” Graves says. “I’m going to meet with that man and decide for myself. Whether he can aid us or not, I know that we can find a way to help you. You just have to trust us, which I know is asking quite a bit from you.”  
  
Credence frowns as he looks at Graves. “He never…” he trails off and shakes his head. “He never spoke about the wizarding world in the way the Healers do. The way Tina does. He made it seem small, special, like there were only a few of us.” He sighs. “I know that’s not true now. I know he was lying. I trust Tina.”  
  
Graves smiles. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says. “But I’m sorry we weren’t able to bring you into our world much sooner than this.”  
  
It hurts to say, because he knows he is largely to blame for that. Not just Credence’s adopted mother, but him, his own soulmate, who left him to fester, because he thought his career was more important.  
  
“Let me get a few things in motion,” Graves says. “I’ll talk to Mister Scamander and a variety of other people who study curse magic. We’ll be able to remove it, Credence.”  
  
“Will it take all of the magic?”  
  
“No,” Graves says. “Your more… benevolent magic will remain in your blood, in you. And you’ll never have to worry about losing control again.”  
  
“I should still be punished for what I did,” Credence says and the pain in him, so sharp, Graves can feel in his own chest.  
  
Modesty rests her head on Credence’s shoulder and pats his hand.  
  
“It wasn’t your choice to have an Obscurial built in you. That was the choice of others,” Graves says quietly. “Don’t carry that burden, Credence.”  
  
Credence doesn’t say anything to that. He only stares down at his lap and Graves aches for him, but helping him will come in time, in different ways.  
  
Graves stands and walks to the door. “I’ll see you soon. We’ll talk more,” he says. When Credence and Modesty have nodded, he walks out into the hall and slowly down it, cursing his weak thighs.  
  
The moment he’s back in MACUSA, he’ll take Fontaine down to the training rooms and curse the absolute hell out of him. It’s bound to make him feel better.  
  
Graves smiles at one of his Healers as he approaches his room, where she’s standing, tapping her foot impatiently.  
  
“Mister Graves,” a familiar voice says behind him.  
  
Graves turns and looks at Credence approaching him. He looks at the Healer, who rolls her eyes and walks away, and back at Credence again.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
Credence stops a few feet away, his fists clenched at his sides and looks down the hallway for a while. “What if I did choose to let my anger out? What if it was a choice I made?” he asks quietly. “Something that I knew could lead to people getting hurt.”  
  
Graves watches him and wants to reach out, wants to touch, but he’s sure Credence would pull away. “What would your reason have been to do so?”  
  
Credence bites his lip and looks at Graves. “She was going to hurt me,” he says quietly. “But after she was going to hurt Modesty too because she tried to protect me.”  
  
“You’re allowed to defend yourself,” Graves says. “You’re especially allowed to defend yourself after thirteen years of her hurting you. And even more so when she threatened your sister.”  
  
“It was still wrong,” Credence says. “I shouldn’t have let it get so far. It wasn’t just her either. Chastity too.” He sniffs. “I killed people, Mister Graves, and I don’t know how that can be excusable.”  
  
“You have to learn to reconcile it with yourself, Credence,” Graves says. “I’ve put a lot of people in the ground over the years. People who would have killed me if I hadn’t killed them. People who would have killed innocent people or even my fellow Aurors, if I hadn’t killed them.”  
  
“It’s different though,” Credence says. “She didn’t have a wand. She was just beating us with a belt.”  
  
“Was it a ruler before that? Her hand before that?” Graves asks more angrily than he intended. Credence looks away and there are tears in his eyes. “It always escalates. One day she would have killed you and she wouldn’t have cared. I’ve seen it many times in my life, in my career. It _always_ escalates. You were protecting yourself and your sister. I’m sorry you had to but you _did_ have to.”  
  
Credence wraps his arms around himself and a tear falls down his cheek. “I could have hurt a lot more people if I hadn’t been able to stop it after that.”  
  
“But you didn’t,” Graves says. “And you won’t anymore. You have help now. You’re not alone, Credence.”  
  
“I suppose not,” Credence says and looks at Graves. “I just don’t know if I deserve it.”  
  
“Oh, Credence,” Graves sighs. “You deserve so much more than you know. You always have. We’ve failed you. I’ve failed you. I can only hope you forgive us someday.”  
  
Credence frowns. “Tina said my mother made sure that no one in the wizarding world would know I was a wizard. It’s not your fault either, Mister Graves.”  
  
Graves wants to tell him that it is. That it’s half his mother’s fault and half his. Or maybe entirely his fault. That he should have been there from the beginning, when he first felt the hurt. That Credence never had to go through any of it, become what he’s become, if Graves had been less selfish.  
  
It’s going to fuck him up more than it already has these last few years. Credence deserves to know, but he has no idea how to tell him. If he ever wants Credence to know what he is to him, as he does, he’ll have to explain everything. It scares him, more than anything in his life has, and he thinks it’s fitting, that love makes him a coward, the way he feared it would.  
  
“Are you alright, Mister Graves?” Credence asks.  
  
Graves looks at him, feels the sting behind his eyes, and smiles. “Of course,” he says. “A little more rest and I’ll be good as new. I’ll see you soon.”  
  
Credence looks mildly hurt by the dismissal but he nods all the same and turns, walking back down the hall.  
  
Graves turns away himself and hobbles back into his room, closing the door and collapsing into bed. He stares at the ceiling for a while and wonders if perhaps Credence Barebone would be better off without him.  
  
He’ll learn about his mark someday, and no one will know it means Graves, but that would only be another pain for Credence, another unknown.  
  
Normally issues are easy for Graves to solve. He has the trickier cases put on his desk, but they’re riddles that interest him, that he eventually solves, and anything beyond that has always been even easier. If there is a problem, he fixes it. If there is a problem he knows he can’t fix, he accepts it and moves on.  
  
This is not easy and he doubts it ever will be.  
  
Graves can only try to make sure Credence no longer suffers from this day forward.  
  
——  
  
It’s simple enough to explain to Tina and Mister Scamander. Scamander seems confident he can help in some way and considering he’s the only one out of anyone in America that’s come across an Obscurus before, Graves is willing to believe him.  
  
He tells Fontaine, too, because he’ll expect his support if Seraphina tries to suggest anything other than aiding Credence, including and up to locking him away, even if the Obscurus is removed and he survives it.  
  
Graves will burn down MACUSA before he sees Credence locked up and he will let Sera know it.  
  
He pushes things into motion quickly, because he doesn’t want to let Credence suffer, knowing what’s inside him, what it’s done to him, what it’s allowed him to do.  
  
When Seraphina meets with him, he’s stronger and stands next to his hospital bed, where he feels more in command of the room. And he spells it out plainly to her, bluntly and with no sugar coating. Tells her he expects her to do this for him but most of all for Credence, because they owe him and tearing out that Obscurus is only the beginning.  
  
She wants to look deeper into Credence’s knowledge of the attacks and Graves asks her if it matters. Credence has denied the no-maj, as far as he knows, and he believes him, without even speaking to him about it. But he wants to know if Sera really thinks it matters, if he knew he was killing his mother, after what she’d done to him.  
  
After what they let her do to him.  
  
And he tells her if it does matter, if that’s the path she wants to take with Credence Barebone, she can kiss his ass goodbye.  
  
Sera isn’t happy with this new leverage over her but he will milk it for all its worth when it comes to Credence and maybe apologize someday, if he feels like it.  
  
So she agrees. She agrees to whatever Graves wants, whatever Scamander needs, and swears to help Credence after, because losing Percival Graves would be a stain on her name, let alone her heart.  
  
They keep Credence in the hospital but his room has been charmed with heavy enchantments to keep his magic at bay and they ask him to stay there, if he can, and escort him otherwise and Graves tries not to think about it being Credence’s prison.  
  
After a week, Graves is feeling almost completely himself, and they tell him he can go home. He has only seen Credence a few times, his guilt and the idea that he might remind Credence of a traumatizing night keeping him away. But he’s been busy too, researching what he can about Obscurials and talking to Curse-Breakers from MACUSA with Scamander to try and get a better understanding of how they do what they do.  
  
Scamander says he’s becoming more confident in his ability to remove the Obscurus and keep Credence alive, though it will be tricky magic. Graves has been informed he is skilled in tricky magic and Tina only gets halfway through explaining why before Graves makes her stop, lest he throw Scamander in a holding cell himself.  
  
But Scamander does at least have the Obscurus in his suitcase of wonders and has been studying it for some time, which helps, even if it makes Graves want to curse him into oblivion for bringing all of this into New York. He’s only glad he missed it.  
  
Graves gets dressed in clothes he’d had Tina and Jauncey go to his apartment to get - and find out what state it was in, before he went in himself. They don’t detect any malicious magic but he is pretty ticked off when they tell him his liquor cabinet has been emptied.  
  
He leaves the hospital room for the last time and walks down the hall until he gets to Credence’s room. He tells Hemlock to go get some lunch and leans in the doorway, looking in at Credence, sitting on the sofa and browsing through _A History of Magic._ He frowns when he doesn’t see Modesty.  
  
“Tina and Queenie took her shopping,” Credence says as he looks up from his book. “She’s not doing well in the hospital so she’s going to stay with them while… while we figure everything else out.”  
  
Graves nods. “Good,” he says. “They’d take you in, too, Credence.”  
  
“They’ve told me they would,” Credence says. “I just think I might be better off on my own.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “Oh? How does Modesty feel about that?”  
  
Credence frowns again, more in offense. “She would understand.”  
  
“Like hell she would,” Graves says and smiles as Credence gives him a reproachful stare. “If you can convince your sister to live without you, you certainly won’t be better off on your own. Not only have you never been on your own, but the world is going to be a different one than you knew it to be, once you’re a free man. It’s what’s in your best interest and a demand I’m going to make.”  
  
Credence doesn’t say anything for a while. He looks down at the book, flipping a page, chewing on his lip. “He was nicer to me, you know, until that night.”  
  
Graves blinks for a while, raising his eyebrows. “Well, that was below the belt and firmly between the knees,” he says dryly. Credence merely shrugs and Graves walks into the room, sitting on the sofa next to him. “Lies told by the devil are attractive for a reason.”  
  
“I know he was lying about everything,” Credence says and looks at Graves from the corner of his eye, smiling softly. “But he wasn’t as foul-mouthed and crass.”  
  
“You know, I think he did say I was crass on quite a few different occasions,” Graves says. “I’ve heard he locked himself up in my office or stayed outside to avoid my coworkers. Suppose I should let them off easy, for not detecting that pasty bastard was walking among them.”  
  
“Tina said she was always honored to be working for you and thought you liked her, all the way up until you sentenced her to death.”  
  
“I did no such thing,” Graves says and is wildly angry about that, but he keeps it locked away for now. “That was the pasty bastard. Those that listened to him have been fired.”  
  
Credence smiles even as he rubs at his chest, his brow furrowed like it hurts. It gives Graves a little thrill, when he realizes Credence is feeling his anger. Credence _does_ feel him, even if he’s never understood it.  
  
“You’re leaving,” Credence says as he looks at Graves more closely, over his clothes. “You look better.”  
  
“I feel better,” Graves says. “It’ll be easier to work in the office. If Scamander’s got it right, it shouldn’t be too much longer, Credence.”  
  
Credence nods, but he doesn’t say anything, and when he looks away, Graves sees him blinking quickly, like he’s blinking away tears.  
  
“You’re going to be okay,” he says quietly. “You’re going to survive this and you’re going to thrive after it. We won’t let anything but that happen.”  
  
“I know,” Credence whispers. “But… but if I _did_ die, there are so many questions I haven’t been able to ask. I’d like to get some answers, if I did… if I did happen to.”  
  
Graves shakes his head. “You’re not going to. None of us will allow it. You’ll have plenty of time to ask those questions.”  
  
“You can’t know that,” Credence says as he looks at Graves, eyes wet, a tear falling from one. “I don’t want to die not knowing why I feel the way I do.”  
  
“What way?” Graves asks, though he’s reluctant to, and feels a little queasy himself.  
  
Credence swallows. “For the longest time… for my entire life, I think, I’ve always felt like my heart has been one of two. I didn’t really think about it until I got older. I thought maybe it was my longing for something else. But then I thought it might be my family, my real family, that somehow I could feel them out there. But Ma… Ma didn’t like that, when I was stupid enough to tell her about it. I was only nine,” he says and sighs. “But it’s only gotten stronger as time has gone on. I started realizing that I felt hurt or pain or sometimes happy, really happy, and they weren’t _my_ emotions. I didn’t want to ask Tina this, because she might think… if it’s not normal, she might think I’m strange. I don’t think you’ll think I’m strange.”  
  
“Because you’re not, Credence,” Graves says quietly, feeling wrung out, leaning his head back on the sofa and staring up at the ceiling. “It is normal, among wizards. Two hearts together, as one.” He sighs. “Truer soulmates than what you might read in no-maj romance novels. Tied together, always.”  
  
When Graves looks at Credence, he sees more tears in his eyes and feels his heart fracture, the pain there stealing his breath away.  
  
“Does it have something to do with the mark on my skin?” Credence asks.  
  
“Yes,” Graves says, because he can’t lie. “We consider those marks sacred. Special. Unique to all of us, unique to our soulmate. That’s why you won’t see them worn so openly, but almost all of us have them.”  
  
“Almost?”  
  
“Well, some people aren’t destined for love. They don’t feel romantic love and are generally content to not get a mark.”  
  
Credence frowns. “I’ve had a mark on my skin my entire life. My mother… when she first saw it…” he trails off and shakes his head. “She never liked it. She said I was wicked for having it, that I’d been marked by witches, and my destiny in life was to destroy them.” Credence shrugs. “I don’t know how handing out fliers did that, but it did end up meaning I was marked by witches, didn’t it?”  
  
“I suppose,” Graves says with a bitter smile. “I’m sorry, Credence, that you endured that pain too. Most children get them early and their parents are usually overjoyed.”  
  
“How do you meet your soulmate?”  
  
Graves feels more queasy now. He drums his fingers on his thigh and clears his throat. “Well,” he says. “There’s a connection already there, but you have to reach out and touch each other, through it. Then it becomes easier to find each other.”  
  
“Reach out…?” Credence asks. “Do you mean with… with my heart or my soul?”  
  
“Yes,” Graves says as he looks down at his hands.  
  
Credence is quiet. “I think that’s what I’ve been feeling then. For the last few years. I’ve always felt someone else, in my heart, but I think I’ve felt them reaching for me. It scared me at first, because I didn’t know what it was,” he says. “They would have been disappointed by what they found, if I had known how to reach back.”  
  
Graves thinks this may actually kill him, more swiftly than Grindelwald would have. “I can guarantee you they wouldn’t,” he says hoarsely. “One look at you and they’d be set having you in their life forever.”  
  
Credence’s cheeks burn red and he looks like he may argue, but he deflates. “They’ve probably been thinking I didn’t want anything to do with them this whole time anyway,” he mutters. “I’ve been hurting someone without meaning to.”  
  
“I’m sure they’d understand, given the situation,” Graves says as he sits up more and scrubs his hand over his face. “Let’s work on fixing you up and then you can focus on finding them, if you want.”  
  
“Alright,” Credence says quietly and sounds a little disappointed. “Do you…?”  
  
Graves clears his throat. “Mhmm,” he hums and looks at Credence. “Mine’s complicated.”  
  
Credence frowns, but he doesn’t ask Graves to elaborate. “Is your mark… is it an animal?”  
  
“Yes,” Graves says. “One found in the wizarding world.”  
  
“Oh,” Credence says softly. “Mine is found in both, I suppose.”  
  
Graves knows exactly what it is and he’d kill to see it, but he can’t. He’d be undone by it, he’d drop to his knees and beg for Credence’s forgiveness, and hope he wouldn’t give it.  
  
“Tell me when we’re all done with this, if you’d like,” Graves says and with a large amount of regret, he stands from the sofa. “Try not to worry about your mark. Another week or so won’t matter much. Just keep them close to your heart, if you can.”  
  
Credence nods as he looks at Graves. “Okay,” he says. “Thank you, Mister Graves.”  
  
“You’re welcome. See you soon, Credence,” Graves says and he leaves the room, before Credence can call him back.  
  
He nearly loses his balance, so weak his knees have gone, but he manages to woodenly stride down the hallway and eventually out of the hospital. He makes it to his apartment and rolls up his sleeves when he steps inside, the black Thestral glaring at him, accusing him of cowardliness, he suspects, but he ignores it.  
  
He has a lot of Scouring to do, to remove the bastard’s every trace from his apartment, and he hopes it takes him the full day, so he can think of nothing else.  
  
——  
  
Graves spends far more time with Newt Scamander than he would like over the next week. He’s too English, too _bloody polite,_ but quick as a whip and it isn’t hard to go toe to toe with him. They bounce ideas off of each other without saying much, so much so that Tina eventually gives up trying to help them.  
  
Which is fine with Graves, because they keep sharing lovey dovey eyes at each other and it’s driving him mad.  
  
His office looks like a mess after Scamander has been at it, but eventually they have a general idea of how they’re going to do it.  
  
“Of course it would be best in a place he finds comforting,” Newt says, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks between a board pinned up in Graves’ office and Graves himself.  
  
“Are you hiding one of those places in your illegal suitcase?” Graves asks as he raises his eyebrows, seated at his desk, his feet on top of it. “Because it doesn’t fucking exist otherwise.”  
  
Newt only sighs. “MACUSA isn’t warm. It’s cold and… clinical. Frightening, for a young man who is already frightened enough.”  
  
“And yet MACUSA it will be,” Graves says. “It’ll be done in the lower Court rooms.” He hums. “Queenie should know what comforts Credence by now. Tell her she’s got my permission to make it _homey_ before we do this.”  
  
“A false home might jar him even more.”  
  
“Then leave it cold and clinical. Let him feel comforted by the people he’s gotten to know and trust.”  
  
“You are one of them, Percival,” Newt says with a smile. “Queenie says once he accepted the real you—”  
  
“I don’t want to hear it,” Graves says and waves dismissively when Newt frowns. “It’s inappropriate.”  
  
“When did I say it was an inappropriate comfort?” Newt asks with some amusement and looks back at the board. “You’ll be there, won’t you?”  
  
“Wouldn’t miss it for the fucking world, Scamander.”  
  
——  
  
Graves isn’t there when they tell Credence it’s time one evening. He’s busy down in the bowels of MACUSA, discussing everything with everyone for the millionth time, so they’re all on the same page.  
  
The room has been charmed and enchanted with just about every damn protection they could put on it, in case the Obscurus gets loose, but they have to protect themselves, if it does, as well. Newt has put up some forcefield in place of the doors, which allows them to walk in and out, but will stop chaotic energy like an Obscurus.  
  
Graves does feel it, though, when Credence is told. Fear blooms in his heart and instead of pushing it away, like he’s so used to, he accepts it. Soothes it with his own confidence that this will work, because he _is_ confident.  
  
Newt explained the theory to him and he understands it. It will work, _in theory,_ but human emotion is always trickier than that, he knows. But he is still confident and he feels Credence’s fear ease over the next few minutes.  
  
The room looks much like it always does, one of the large Court rooms for trials that require the presence of a large number of people. But there is a bed in the middle, comfortable, but not overly so. A clear orb is hovering nearby, moving like a bubble of water, a host, Newt had said, for the Obscurus to be trapped in, when it’s removed. And the damn suitcase, of course, near that. Beyond that, there are only numerous witches and wizards here.  
  
Graves had wanted to tell Seraphina to stay out of it, but he knows he wouldn’t win that argument. But she is in one of the lower Court seats, her personal Aurors flanking her.  
  
Queenie is here, his own Aurors that he trusts the most to keep their heads - all of his Senior Aurors and his Captains - and a few Healers, most of who are familiar to Credence now, from his time in St Lyptus’.  
  
Newt has told them what spells to use, if he calls for aid, and Graves might be going a little mad, leaving it all up to this British man with a penchant for illegal activity and when he had looked into his background, it had only gotten worse.  
  
But he has trusted him this far, he has seen the other Obscurial he pulled out of the young girl, and his theory does hold water.  
  
Graves paces for a while in front of Seraphina, as they wait for Credence.  
  
“What is it, about the boy?” Sera asks him quietly.  
  
He glances at her and continues pacing. “I know a little something about life being unfair,” he says. “Not to mention we share being screwed over by Gellert fucking Grindelwald.”  
  
“It’s more than that,” Sera says as she raises an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”  
  
“You’ve never seen me like a lot of things before, Sera.”  
  
“Maybe that was part of the problem,” Sera says wryly.  
  
“You may not have seen me like this before but you’ve seen me in other ways that matter,” Graves says, cold and hard. “I won’t let you escape that so easily.”  
  
“No, I imagine you won’t,” Sera says. “We’re going to have a discussion about it sooner or later, Percy.”  
  
Graves merely hums, because he knows that. Knows they need to spill the bad blood and clean it up, if they’re to work in harmony again. But he hears a few murmurs and stops pacing, looking toward the door.  
  
Newt drops the forcefield for a moment and Credence Barebone is escorted inside, Tina at his side and two Aurors and a Healer behind. Newt places the field up again and Graves watches Credence gaze around, his pallor grey, unwell, and his heart aches for him.  
  
Tina and Newt speak to him for a while, going over what they’ve already told him to expect, and he nods, but Graves doesn’t miss that his eyes occasionally dart to him.  
  
It takes a bit of convincing for Credence to sit down on the bed and Graves can’t blame him for that. They’re going to give him a sedative, but Newt says that it will likely be disturbed as soon as the Obscurus is awakened. It will let them start the process a bit easier, anyway, and Graves walks over, when he sees that Credence is reluctant to swallow the potion.  
  
He can only imagine what it’s like. In a strange, unfamiliar place, not knowing if you’ll be alive an hour from now, surrounded by strangers, for the most part, who are trying to make you take a sedative. It’s a wonder Credence isn’t putting up a fight but when Graves approaches him, he sees how tired he is.  
  
Graves feels it, in his own heart and soul. Credence is ready whether it means living or dying, but no one will ever be able to look around one more time and not think about what they may never see again.  
  
Credence looks up as Graves stops alongside him. He looks relieved to see him, his shoulders drooping a little, and Graves tentatively moves his hand to one, squeezing it.  
  
“Just think,” Graves says. “This is going to be one hell of an exorcism story to tell around the Christmas table.”  
  
He hears Tina’s faint groan of disapproval, but it’s the smile from Credence that he’s after, and he gets it.  
  
Graves smiles in return and gently squeezes the back of Credence’s neck. “We’ll be right here, Credence.”  
  
“You promise?” Credence asks, not looking away from Graves.  
  
“I swear it,” he says. “We’ve got things to discuss, you and I.”  
  
Credence smiles again and nods. He takes in a deep, fortifying breath and picks up the vial of purple potion. He lays down and looks around anxiously, at everyone staring at him, but it’s Graves that he watches as he downs the potion.  
  
It hits him quickly, his eyes falling shut, as he drifts into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  
  
There’s quite a lot of movement after that, as people get into the places Newt has asked them to. He will channel the Obscurus and pull it from Credence and they are to aid him in controlling it when he asks, in guiding it into the host that is waiting for it.  
  
Graves has his own place, behind Credence, and he pulls out his wand and holds it tightly in his hand.  
  
“Expect the unexpected,” Newt reminds them, as if he’s teaching a bunch of firsts how to light their wands for the first time. “And expect resistance.” He hums consideringly. “Quite a lot of resistance, actually. Shall we begin?”  
  
No one looks particularly inspired or comforted by his words and Graves smirks a little and holds out his wand. “Let’s do it,” he says and winks as Newt glances at him.  
  
Newt smiles and points his wand at Credence, standing at the end of the bed. No one is directly at his sides, as Newt theorizes it will branch off that way, if it gets out of control and he doesn’t want any casualties.  
  
They all know what they’ve signed up for, but Graves knows it will work. Can’t believe anything else, because the alternative threatens to destroy him too.  
  
The spell that Newt casts does not have color, but the magic of it hums through the air, and the hair on the back of Graves’ neck stands on end.  
  
Newt frowns as he concentrates and he gives another surge of magic, the hum rattling the bed Credence is lying on.  
  
Graves stares down at him and sees his fingers twitch, his head turn to the side, but he is still asleep.  
  
“Once more, shall we?” Newt says calmly and this surge is powerful enough that Credence’s chest lifts off of the bed, before he collapses against it again.  
  
And then all hell breaks loose.  
  
The Obscurus bursts from him and Graves hears various shouts of alarm as the black, swirling mass extends upward out of his chest, bursting left and right, as Newt had said it would, before it forms a tight ball, hovering over Credence, half in his chest.  
  
“Contain it!” Newt shouts.  
  
Graves sees that it won’t work once everyone has cast the spell and the Obscurus shudders dangerously, a bomb ready to explode, when Credence’s eyes snap open, white and eerie, his mouth open in a silent scream. He is steadily being pulled upward, off of the bed.  
  
It will pull Credence into it, its host, reawaken him and let him lose control, though it’s fighting the effects of the sleeping draught.  
  
“Shit,” Graves says and drops his wand, moving onto the bed behind Credence. He slides his arms under Credence’s and yanks him against his chest.  
  
“Shh, shh,” he shushes, the scream of the Obscurus nearly deafening as it works to rejoin its host. “It’s me, Credence, it’s Percy,” he whispers into Credence’s ear, as he looks up at the swirling black and red mass. He closes his eyes and holds onto Credence tightly.  
  
“That’s what I want you to call me, after all of this,” Graves says. “I told you we’d talk more about soulmarks, didn’t I? That you could show me what yours is?” He moves his hand down, grasping at Credence’s left forearm. “A lion, isn’t she?”  
  
He hears people shouting, Newt ordering them to do something, but he doesn’t hear them, not over the Obscurus, not over the sound of his voice, in Credence’s ear.  
  
“I know it hurts, love,” Graves says. “I know it does. But I want you to reach out, not for magic, but for your soulmate. Feel that connection and reach, Credence, just like I explained to you.”  
  
Graves opens his eyes and sees that the Obscurus is further up in the air, but Credence has remained in his arms, and the Obscurus is only attached to him by thick tendrils, the thickest of which is in his chest.  
  
He closes his eyes again. “That’s it,” he whispers. “Reach out and you’ll feel them reaching back. That lion on your arm _is_ your soulmate, Credence, that’s the heart of them. She’ll guide you.”  
  
The scream from Credence becomes loud and real, no longer silent. A terrible scream, but it’s him, and Graves feels him now, not taut and still, but shaking, fighting.  
  
And he feels Credence reaching for him and he can do nothing but reach back, until they touch by their own choice for the first time in nearly twenty years.  
  
There’s an explosion. It knocks Graves back but he keeps hold of Credence, against his chest, as his ears ring, as his head spins. He can feel Credence gasping for air and opens his eyes, looking up. The Obscurus is not attached to Credence anymore and it is no longer angry, no longer moving with rage and violence, but a gently swirling mass.  
  
Newt is guiding it, slowly, toward its new host, as everyone in the room, knocked backwards onto the ground, watches.  
  
Graves looks away, down at Credence, whose eyes are squeezed closed. He’s grasping at Graves’ arms, and he sits up again, pulling Credence up against him.  
  
“Breathe,” he says quietly. “Breathe, Credence, in and out. With me.”  
  
It’s deathly silent now, beyond Credence’s heaving breaths, but they eventually slow and his grip on Graves’ sleeves becomes more lax. He’s cold and clammy, trembling, and Graves moves his hand up to Credence’s chest, over his heart, rapidly beating beneath his palm.  
  
“Breathe,” he whispers. He opens his eyes when he feels someone come near and Queenie is there, with a thick wool blanket and he nods, letting her drape it over Credence. “That’s it, love. It’s alright now, Credence. It’s gone.”  
  
Credence takes a long while to respond. When his breathing evens out, he moves his hand up to Graves’, over his heart, and weakly grasps it.  
  
“It’s gone?” he asks, voice soft and broken.  
  
“It’s gone,” Graves says. “And you’re still here. You did it, Credence.”  
  
Credence is trembling like a leaf, something the blanket won’t fix. Graves looks up and at Newt, who has put the Obscurus into his suitcase for safekeeping for now.  
  
Newt walks closer and holds his wand out, pointing it at Credence’s chest. He nods in satisfaction and puts his wand away, smiling as he looks at Graves.  
  
 _“Wonderfully_ well done, Credence. And Percival.”  
  
Credence doesn’t open his eyes, but he does nod a little, and the tension in the room eases. There’s more movement then and Credence’s brow furrows and Graves wants to tell them all to leave. To give Credence some peace, for once in his life.  
  
“Percy,” Credence whispers and Graves’ heart leaps.  
  
“Yes?” he asks, squeezing Credence’s hand.  
  
“I want to go home.”  
  
That breaks his heart a little more, Graves thinks, and he swallows. “You need to go to the hospital, Credence. Just for a night or two,” he says, when Credence tenses. “Get some strength in you. Then you’ll go to the Goldsteins.”  
  
“No,” Credence says as he shakes his head. “I want to go _home.”_  
  
Graves frowns. He doesn’t think Credence means the damn church but he doesn’t have any other home besides that, if he doesn’t mean the hospital or the Goldsteins either.  
  
Queenie clears her throat daintily and Graves looks up at her. She’s smiling, warmly, as she looks at Credence. “Home isn’t really a place for him,” she says. “Not yet, anyhow. Home’s a person.”  
  
The way she looks at him then might have put a blush on his cheeks, if he hadn’t learned how to not make that happen. He clears his throat and squeezes Credence’s hand.  
  
“It would give me peace of mind to have you monitored in the hospital overnight,” Graves says softly.  
  
“Home,” Credence says, rather firmly, despite the fact that he can’t even open his eyes.  
  
Queenie giggles a little and one of the Healers walks over. The one that had spent the most time with Credence, Madam Sowe.  
  
“I’ll come along, bring a potion or five, make sure he’s stable for the night,” she says kindly. “You’re perfectly capable after that, Director.”  
  
Graves is going to have to explain this later. But that’s later and this is now and he nods. “Alright,” he says. “Home, then.”  
  
The enchantments are steadily lifted from the room and Seraphina grants them a ten minute window to Disapparate within MACUSA, so he can get to his office upstairs. Once he has retrieved his wand, shaken Newt’s hand, he and Madam Sowe get Credence on his feet between them and with some effort, Graves Disapparates from the Court and into his office. They stagger a little, but Credence manages to stay on his feet and not vomit.  
  
“Why is it so hard to open my eyes?” Credence asks groggily.  
  
“That’ll be the sleeping draught, dear,” Madam Sowe says. “Still in you, despite the fact that you were disturbed. You’ll be right as rain after a night of sleep.”  
  
Graves floos them into his apartment and picks Credence up, behind his knees and neck, grunting a little, because Credence isn’t exactly tiny. Madam Sowe strides off toward his bedroom with her Healer’s bag under her arm and Graves follows her.  
  
He lays Credence on his bed after she pulls the sheets back and takes his shoes off, then recovers him with the sheets and comforter.  
  
Madam Sowe checks his vitals and various other things with her wand and Graves watches her, his arms crossed over his chest, until she nods.  
  
“He’s cold,” she says. “But that will get better soon. He’ll be tired for a while, Director, don’t ask too much of him. I’ll leave potions enough for a week, if he needs them.”  
  
“Fair enough,” Graves says as she grabs one of the vials filled with a purple potion.  
  
Credence must smell it because he jerks away when she tries to give it to him.  
  
“It’s alright, dear. Nothing unpleasant will come from this one,” she says. “You’ll wake to Percival Graves. There are worse sights than that.”  
  
Graves purses his lips, so he doesn’t laugh or cry, he doesn’t know which, but Credence does take the potion and is asleep within seconds.  
  
“That ought to do it,” Madam Sowe says as she looks at him. “You send me an immediate message if you need me and I’ll be here. But Credence should be fine with that malevolent magic gone. He’ll only need to recover his strength, like you did.”  
  
“Of course,” Graves says. “Thank you, Madam Sowe.” He leads her out into the living room and lets her use the floo to get back to St Lyptus’, one of the few places his fireplace is connected to.  
  
It’s quiet after that, almost eerily so, and Graves hopes beyond hope that Grindelwald never brought Credence here. He’s cleaned every bit of his stench away and ordered an entirely new wardrobe and is still stocking his liquor cabinet, so it feels like home for him again, but he hopes that it will be unfamiliar to Credence when he wakes.  
  
Graves goes into the bedroom and looks at Credence, his face no longer pained, but smoothed out in a peaceful sleep. He tentatively reaches out and brushes his hair away from his forehead.  
  
Credence had called him Percy.  
  
He hoped that he would hear him, but he’s not entirely sure how much he will remember.  
  
He gets into more casual clothes and sleeps in the armchair in his bedroom, snapping awake every hour or so, afraid it was all a bad dream. But Credence is always there, still sleeping, and Graves manages to snag a few hours just before dawn.  
  
But when the sun comes up, Graves finds he is too restless for sleep. He suspects he has some days off ahead of him, which is probably good for everyone’s sanity, and he wanders into the kitchen after closing his bedroom door halfway.  
  
Graves makes a pot of coffee and sends a message to Newt, with a request to send him the morning paper in return. It arrives less than an hour later and he gives the owl that brings it a few treats. He makes another pot of coffee and sits on his sofa, reading through the paper, his eyes dry and tired.  
  
He could sleep for a week himself, he thinks, whenever his nerves decide to calm down.  
  
Of course, he doesn’t realize he has fallen asleep until he jerks out of a stupor, the paper still open his hands but drooping over his lap. He hears movement in the bedroom and jumps off the sofa and walks to it.  
  
Graves pulls the door open and looks at Credence, who is looking around the room, his brow furrowed in confusion, the late morning light cast over the bed and Graves’ heart seizes a little, because Credence looks painfully beautiful here.  
  
Credence looks at him then, blinking slowly. “Mister Graves,” he says quietly, his voice hoarse.  
  
“Water,” Graves says and walks out into the kitchen to get a glass. He brings it into the bedroom, where Credence has managed to sit up at least a few inches, blinking tiredly. “Here. Slowly.”  
  
Credence takes the water, his hands a bit shaky, and he sips on it, still looking around the bedroom.  
  
“This is my home,” Graves says and isn’t quite sure if he’s relieved or disappointed Credence doesn’t remember.  
  
“I know,” Credence says with a frown as he looks up at Graves. “I asked to come here.”  
  
“Oh,” Graves says and isn’t sure what to do with that either. “How do you feel?”  
  
“Tired,” Credence says as he looks down at the water before taking another drink. “I thought I would wake up and it would have been a dream. I thought I’d wake up back in the church, with Ma.” He shakes his head. “But it’s gone. It’s finally gone.”  
  
Graves reaches forward quickly to grab the tipping water glass and sets it aside as Credence puts his hand over his face and gently weeps. He sits on the edge of the bed next to him and squeezes his shoulder.  
  
“You’re free, Credence,” he says. “You never have to worry about it again. You’re free from it and you’re free to start a life of your own.”  
  
Credence cries for a while more and eventually reaches for Graves. He moves closer, until Credence is leaning against his chest, gently grasping at his shirt. Graves rubs his back and presses his cheek to Credence’s hair and gives him the time he needs.  
  
When the tears slow and Credence sniffles more, he doesn’t move away. “Percy,” he whispers and Graves’ heart seizes all over again. “I reached out, the way you told me to.”  
  
Graves looks up at the ceiling. This is too soon, but he didn’t know how else to help, in the moment. But it’s too damn soon.  
  
“I felt you reach back,” Credence says. “For the first time, I knew how to do it and you were the one who reached back.”  
  
“I was,” Graves sighs as he rubs Credence’s back. “I’m sorry, Credence.”  
  
Credence pulls back, wiping his cheeks off and looks at Graves with a frown. “Why?”  
  
“I’m sorry that I didn’t try to find you sooner than I did,” Graves says. “I’m sorry it took this happening for me to find you.”  
  
“You said soulmates find each other when they touch,” Credence says. “You didn’t know where I was.”  
  
“I said it becomes easier when they do,” Graves says and looks away from Credence’s bright eyes, red-rimmed and beautiful. “If I had tried harder, earlier, I could have found you.”  
  
Credence sniffs. “You’ve been feeling my pain the same as I’ve been feeling yours.”  
  
“Yes,” Graves says and the shame of it threatens to drown him.  
  
“Why did you only start to reach for me in the last few years?”  
  
Graves debates how to answer that for a while, pressing his knuckles against his mouth. He sighs and looks at Credence. “Many reasons. First and foremost, I never wanted a soulmate. I was happy that I didn’t have a mark. For eighteen years I didn’t. For eighteen years I told people I was glad to not be burdened with one,” he says. “And then I got my mark and knew you’d been born. And I hated it a little more, because I was starting my career and didn’t want to worry about a soulmate. I also knew that if I were to ever want to meet you, I’d have to wait another eighteen years before I felt comfortable doing so.”  
  
Credence watches him, tears still bright in his eyes, but he won’t look away.  
  
“Years came and went. The first few years were… fine. But after you were adopted, at seven, I felt the pain you did. I felt it for a long time, Credence. Pain I was personally familiar with from my own doting parents and part of me ignored it, because of that,” Graves says. “Because I was selfish and arrogant and didn’t care that someone was out there suffering, even though they were tied to me.”  
  
He shakes his head and looks down at his hands. “I got older, wiser. Your pain became more severe, something I couldn’t ignore. You got closer to being an adult. I started to realize what I’d left you in. The situation I didn’t know, but the pain I did. I realized I could have saved you from it a long time ago. So I reached for you and you didn’t reach back. I kept trying. I kept trying until the day Grindelwald caught up with me and I tried after too.”  
  
“The last attack,” Credence says quietly. “When I killed Ma and Chastity. It felt like someone had taken my hand and I was able to stop what I was doing.”  
  
Graves nods. “The first time we touched, though you didn’t know what or who it was. I was locked in that hole in the ground he had me in and I was waiting for another attack. Powerful magic like that, I felt it too, through the connection. It was easier to touch you then.”  
  
“You’re the reason I didn’t kill Modesty or anyone else.”  
  
“That’s giving me far too much credit,” Graves says quietly. “I could have stopped you becoming an Obscurial if I hadn’t been too worried about my next promotion.”  
  
Credence is quiet. “You knew I was in pain for almost thirteen years,” he whispers and there’s hurt in his voice, plenty of it, and tears, and Graves forces himself to look at him. “But I don’t blame you for not looking for me.”  
  
“You should,” Graves says roughly. “I left you to rot, when I could have done better. I could have found you a good home, Credence, told you about our connection later. I could have found you happiness and I chose not to because I was angry I had a soulmate at all. Because I was too fucking ambitious to let anything get in my way.”  
  
“And you got older and wiser,” Credence says. “You never wanted it from the start.”  
  
“And you’d think I would’ve learned a little damn humanity, feeling your pain,” Graves says and is a bit mortified there are tears in his eyes, in his voice.  
  
“Percy,” Credence says and touches his arm.  
  
Graves pulls away, standing and angrily swiping at his cheeks. He sniffs and shakes his head, looking at Credence. “You deserve so much better than you got, Credence. Everything. You deserved a real family, people who loved you. You deserved to be in our world like any normal wizarding child is. You deserve a far better soulmate than me. I’m sorry that the world let you down in so many ways. That I did too,” he says. “This isn’t home for you.”  
  
Graves leaves the bedroom then. He’s feeling too wired, too broken, in a way he hasn’t felt in decades. Raw and ripped open, exposed, and he hates it. Hates it even more because he knows it’s how Credence has been living his entire life.  
  
He walks across the apartment and into his office, closing the door and moving to his desk. He slumps into the chair and presses his elbows on his desk, his face in his hands.  
  
When the door opens, abruptly, Graves flinches and looks up at Credence.  
  
Credence looks a little wobbly on his feet and Graves wants to leap up, in case he falls, but the look on Credence’s face is fierce.  
  
“You don’t get to walk away from me,” he says angrily as he stares at Graves. “You don’t get to decide how I feel, where I should be, you don’t get to _walk away._ Walking away is easy, you’ve been doing it nearly my whole life.”  
  
Graves stares at him, his mouth open, and it hurts, what he’s saying, but he doesn’t have it in him to argue.  
  
“Yeah, you… you were selfish and arrogant and ambitious,” Credence says, holding onto the doorframe. “The majority of this city is that way. You learned better, didn’t you? You didn’t stop trying to reach for me after that first time. And you were able to get out of that hole in the ground he put you in when you felt what was happening. You knew who I was then, you found me and you saved me. Saved me from him, saved me from killing anyone else. Just because you… you messed up before doesn’t mean you can’t get better or make it right.”  
  
Credence’s lower lip wobbles. “I have to believe that, Percy. That we can make mistakes and learn from them. That we can make mistakes and be better. Forgive ourselves for them, so we might be able to find a little peace someday. I have to believe that because if I don’t, I’m going to push the people I care about away too.”  
  
Graves watches him, the beauty of his despair, and feels his heart pound, steady but so very heavy. “Credence…”  
  
“I’m _tired,_ Percy,” Credence says. “I’m tired of hating myself and my life. I have to believe that I’m a wizard and I have a soulmate because they mean I’m not abnormal or a freak. They mean I have a home and someone who cares about me. They mean I have everything I’ve ever wanted, even if it took all of this to get there. Most of all, I need you to forgive yourself, so I don’t have to keep worrying about home and if someone will ever care enough to give me a real one.”  
  
Graves wants to argue. Wants to tell Credence that he’s not even twenty yet, that he doesn’t know shit about life, that he’s been warped away from what’s normal, to what can be forgiven, but he can’t. Because Credence has been forced to grow up, to get older and wiser before his time, so he could face his world and not lose himself in it.  
  
Because Credence is right, for all his young years and sheltered life. It’s what pain does to you. You look at the world for what it really is and Graves thinks that he forgot that today.  
  
The world isn’t full of magic when you’re a child surrounded by abuse. It becomes dangerous, untrustworthy, and it’s better to learn the signs, to pick out the liars, if you want to protect yourself from it. If you want to survive.  
  
Credence knows this perhaps even more intimately than Graves does.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Graves says. “Credence, I’m sorry.”  
  
He stands and moves around the desk, walking to Credence. He reaches for him and Credence reaches back, until they’re wrapped around each other, their first embrace.  
  
Credence rests his head on Graves’ shoulder and he rubs his back and sighs, blinking the sting out of his eyes.  
  
“You’re right, of course,” Graves says. “I’m sorry for walking away.”  
  
“Please don’t do it again,” Credence whispers and Graves feels warmth on his shirt.  
  
“I won’t,” he says as he pulls gently back, moving his hand to Credence’s face. He wipes away his tears. “You’re a beautiful person, Credence, in and out.”  
  
Credence’s cheeks go pink and he sniffs, looking away. “Thank you,” he says, though it doesn’t sound like he believes Graves. “Can we…?”  
  
“Yeah,” Graves says and pulls away, taking Credence’s hand.  
  
He leads him out into the living room, slowly, and is about to get Credence on the sofa when he notices how damn exhausted he looks. Graves turns toward the bedroom instead and helps Credence into bed. He pulls the sheets and comforter up to his chest like he had last night.  
  
“Get some more sleep,” Graves says. “You need it.”  
  
“Please stay,” Credence says and sounds like he needs that more than anything.  
  
Graves smiles, a little helplessly, and nods. He moves around to the other side of the bed and laughs when Credence pulls the sheets back for him.  
  
“Alright, but I’m probably going to be out like a light in a few minutes,” he says as he gets into bed with a sigh.  
  
Credence isn’t particularly shy about facing him and scooting closer, until he can curl up against his side, his hand gently gripping at Graves’ shirt. “Percy,” he says softly. “Will you show me?”  
  
Graves’ heart races a little faster at that but it’s not a request he could ever deny. He lifts his left arm and rolls down the sleeve of his shirt, until the Thestral on his forearm is completely visible, and moves it closer to Credence.  
  
“What is it?” Credence asks with a bit of awe, leaning up and resting his head on Graves’ shoulder. He reaches out tentatively before he brushes his fingers along the mark, inked into Graves’ skin.  
  
“It’s a Thestral,” Graves says quietly. “A magical creature. A lot of people don’t like them, because they think they’re bad luck. I happen to think they’re beautiful and I haven’t met one yet that doesn’t like having its chin scratched.”  
  
“Where are they?”  
  
“They’re native to Europe, mostly, but there are some here, as part of a breeding program,” Graves says. “I wanted to see them in person, instead of just on my arm. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but I know now I was trying to be closer to you.”  
  
Credence traces the outline of the Thestral and Graves feels his smile against his shoulder.  
  
“You know what mine is. How did you know?”  
  
“Because a wizard’s mark is their soulmate’s Patronus,” Graves says. “You’ll see yours one day, when you get a wand and learn some magic. But my Patronus is a lioness. I knew she would be your mark when my own showed up.”  
  
Credence hums and moves around a little, so he can lift his own left arm. He pulls his sleeve back and shows Graves the black mark, a perfect likeness of his Patronus, her eyes clear and bright in the otherwise dark, swirling mark.  
  
Graves touches it then, feels the smoothness of Credence’s skin, as he takes in the magnitude of it all. He’s lying in bed with his soulmate, their marks proof of it, and it has happened in the most unexpected of ways, but it has happened all the same.  
  
The day has finally come, when Graves never thought it would.  
  
He pulls Credence’s arm close and kisses his wrist.  
  
“You are home, Credence, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”  
  
“It definitely is,” Credence says. “Thank you, Percy.”  
  
Graves looks at him then and Credence looks back, so close, and it seems only natural to lean in and kiss him.  
  
It’s gentle, soft and sweet, and a promise for more later. Graves kisses Credence’s forehead after.  
  
“Sleep, love. For as long as you need to.”  
  
“You too.”  
  
Graves chuckles and reaches up as Credence drapes his arm around his ribs, holding his wrist. “Good morning,” he says quietly, but Credence is already fast asleep.  
  
——  
  
Graves’ life changes after that, for the better.  
  
He tells his Aurors that he can’t blame them completely but he can train them even harder and none of them protest or complain. He talks to the goblins at Gringotts about their magic that reveals imposters in the bank and after finding something he can give them in return for their time, they help him design a few areas in MACUSA, the revolving door first of all, that will reveal an imposter.  
  
But he is already at the top of the world when it comes to MACUSA, no higher place he wants to go, so he doesn’t stay as busy as he normally would, working twelve hour days and drinking a few tumblers of Pure Malt every night. He gives himself time to live.  
  
He has Credence to go home to now.  
  
It’s a gentle, tender slide into love, plenty of hurts between them that need time to heal.  
  
Graves is surprised that Modesty doesn’t ask to live with Credence, but she does ask if she can stay over when she misses him the most. It ends up being almost every other weekend, because Credence has plenty of time to go visit her at the Goldstein apartment during the week.  
  
No one is particularly surprised when there’s magical blood found in her and after that, if Credence isn’t spending time with her, she enjoys the child care offered in MACUSA so both Tina and Queenie can work.  
  
Graves had to explain to everyone early on that Credence is his soulmate and the looks of betrayal on Fontaine and Sera’s faces had been particularly sweet, that he never told them, a little vengeance for their mistakes.  
  
He and Sera have reformed their friendship, tentatively, but time will heal the rest there too.  
  
After that, life moves smoothly along. He gets Credence going with school work, so he might catch up and find a place as an adult in the wizarding world, and helps to teach him as much as he can. He’d excelled at Ilvermorny himself but teaching is a little different. Credence is a fast learner, though, powerful when he gets his wand, his magic eager to be used.  
  
He often requests to see Graves’ Patronus during their lessons, which seems to give him some comfort, some way to focus a little easier on the things that are so new to him.  
  
Credence gets older, in more than just his age and appearance, over the next year. His spine straightens and he’s got an old soul, now that he’s free to be himself. He is almost unbearably kind-hearted, something that is forgein to Graves, but it only makes him love him all the more, when it’s not driving him crazy.  
  
Another year after that, the nightmares stop. For both of them, but Graves’ have always been less severe. Credence has worked with a Healer to deal with the trauma of his life and that, on top of his schooling, on top of his life with Graves, changes him. All for the better, Graves knows.  
  
He becomes confident, oftentimes cheeky, easy to smile and quick to joke around. But he remains soft and kind and genuine, the way he will always be, and Graves never expected what it might do to him, watching Credence grow as a person.  
  
It’s a happiness he didn’t know existed and every milestone that Credence hits, Graves feels like he himself grows as a person as well, that he is bettered in some way.  
  
In the third year following the Obscurus’ removal, Modesty turns eleven and receives her letter from Ilvermorny and a certain dark mark on her left forearm, indicating non-magical parents, though they had expected that. They all take her shopping in Dragon Street and Tina and Queenie explain to her how their first years went, so she might be more excited than nervous. They promise she’ll make friends that will stay with her for her entire life, that she will have an incredible time, and that all of them will not be very far away from her.  
  
When term starts, they see her off at Grand Central, with her trunk and the small owl in its cage precariously sitting on top of it. Credence cries more than anyone, but Graves knows it’s not for what he missed out on, but for the relief and joy that his sister doesn’t have to either.  
  
As far as his schooling goes, Graves thinks he is ready to take his exams. He probably could have been ready earlier, if Graves didn’t have to work, but Credence seems to have enjoyed the pace anyway and says that he is only glad it hadn’t taken him the full seven years.  
  
When Graves wraps everything up, when he ensures that Credence is as prepared as he’s ever going to be to take the HAREs, Credence asks him to teach him one more piece of magic.  
  
They’ve tried before, but something was always holding Credence back, and he couldn’t quite accomplish it, as powerful as he is. Graves doesn’t know what it is and he hasn’t asked, not yet.  
  
A week before his exams are set to begin in MACUSA, Graves takes Credence to upstate New York and finds a secluded clearing in the woods. Nature is a place of joy for Credence, somewhere he doesn’t have to worry about other people, somewhere he might be able to concentrate more.  
  
Graves casts his Patronus and she leaps to life from the end of his wand. He lets her go on her own and she wanders the clearing, occasionally brushing up alongside Credence until he pats her shoulders.  
  
“You said I might not be able to do that the first few times,” Credence says. “That I’ll have to control the Patronus’ movements myself.”  
  
“That’s right,” Graves says. “Until you get used to holding on to it without thinking about it. It’ll become second nature. Sending messages through it might speed that up.”  
  
Credence nods as he holds his wand at his side. He takes in a deep breath before he lets it out in a sigh. He raises his wand and pauses, looking conflicted.  
  
“Credence,” Graves says quietly as he moves alongside him. “A happy memory.”  
  
“I know,” Credence says. “I know that, but…”  
  
“What’s been holding you back, love?” Graves asks carefully.  
  
Credence purses his lips. “It’s stupid, really,” he mutters. “I tried to use the day I was freed the first few times. But then I realized you would tell me that was _relief,_ not happiness. So I tried our first kiss and it didn’t work. The first time we made love and it didn’t work. But those… those _are_ all such happy memories. I started to think something was wrong with me.”  
  
Graves watches him with a frown, moving his hand to his shoulder.  
  
“I started to think that maybe my happy memories were faulty because my brain was so mixed up for so long. But I think I understand now,” Credence says. “That it doesn’t have to be a first, a milestone, something huge. Is that right?”  
  
Graves smiles as Credence looks at him. “That’s right,” he says quietly and _oh_ it hurts, because he went through the same sort of distress Credence has about this and he should have realized it. “I tried for the longest time to use the big moments too. And I realized they made me happy, but they didn’t make me happier in a deeper way, something that touched my heart.”  
  
“What was it for you, when you first learned?” Credence asks, his eyes bright.  
  
“I remembered sitting under an oak tree on Ilvermorny’s school grounds. I was a first and my sister was a seventh. She kept turning oak leaves into apples and pears and peaches. I remembered that I couldn’t stop laughing that day. I remembered that we both forgot what was waiting for us at home. We were sitting in the spring grass next to a lake and eating apples and pears and peaches and there were no worries, for that hour or two. That was a memory that touched the heart of me.”  
  
Credence stares at him, his lip wobbling, something Graves never likes to see, but he thinks it’s alright now. He merely smiles and moves closer, leaning in and kissing him, for only a moment.  
  
“Go on,” Graves says.  
  
Credence sniffs and nods and holds his wand up again. He takes in steady breaths before he shouts, _“Expecto Patronum!”_  
  
A silver mist bursts from the end of his wand and for a moment Credence’s face falls, but then a brighter light comes forth. And a large creature leaps from the wand, landing on the soft grass below, leaving no footsteps as it stretches its leathery wings.  
  
Graves throws his arms in the air. “That’s it, Credence, that’s fucking it! Keep your wand up,” he says as he gestures. “Control it for a while.”  
  
The Thestral, shining white and silver, so unlike the black mark on his arm, follows where Credence points his wand. It trots and gallops when he tells it too and comes closer, when he beckons it.  
  
Credence keeps his wand up but he reaches forward and the Thestral leans its neck toward him, its soft, warm light brushing over Credence’s hand. There are tears in his eyes but he’s grinning and he laughs when he scratches under the Thestral’s chin and it tilts its head into it, contentedly.  
  
“He’s beautiful, Percy,” Credence says. “So beautiful.”  
  
“He’s also massive. I can’t wait for the first time someone gets him as a message,” Graves says as he looks over the Thestral. “Well done, love, absolutely incredible.” He wraps his arm around Credence’s waist and looks at the lioness as she approaches.  
  
She noses at the Thestral and he noses back until she drags herself along him, the way cats tend to do when they’ve found someone they like.  
  
Graves chuckles. “She approves,” he says and looks at Credence, who is so heartbreakingly beautiful when he smiles the way he is doing now. “What was yours?”  
  
Credence looks up at the sky for a moment, still smiling. “It was last Christmas,” he says. “When we went to Central Park. Just you and me. We laid on that blanket by the pond, remember, and looked at the stars? You made up a bunch of bullshit stories about the constellations we could see. You made me laugh for the longest time and I realized that night you’re always going to make me laugh.”  
  
He looks at Graves then, smiling. “That one touched the heart of me.”  
  
Graves’ eyes may sting, but he pushes that away as best he can and nods. “Good,” he says, a bit hoarsely. “That’s a good one, Credence.”  
  
Credence’s smile widens and he turns, wrapping his arms around Grave’s neck, squeezing him tightly.  
  
Graves squeezes him in return, kissing his neck and closing his eyes. “I love you,” he says softly.  
  
“I love you too, Percy,” Credence says and nuzzles against his shoulder. “Thank you for everything.”  
  
“Thank _you,”_ Graves says as he pulls back with a smile. He blinks and looks at their Patronuses, which are both staring at them, looking content themselves. “Huh.”  
  
“Didn’t you say it would take a while for him to…?”  
  
“I did. But I suppose he’s sticking around to enjoy your happiness.”  
  
“Yours too, I think,” Credence says, as they stand there, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. “Can we stay for a bit longer?”  
  
“Of course, love,” Graves says. “As long as you want.”  
  
Credence looks at him with a smile and Graves smiles back.  
  
He can see Credence as he was, a faceless boy in his dreams, a man terrified at the top of a staircase, a man freed from his prison and demanding a home to replace it. A man that’s grown from a frightened child to an accomplished wizard with a name for himself.  
  
They share so many similarities and yet they have come out of it all two entirely different people, but moulded just the right way to fit together.  
  
Graves will spend the rest of his life boasting about the amazing man his soulmate is and how lucky he was that Credence chose to reach back, chose to take his hand, and how much it changed both their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> I deleted my last fic after it did so poorly oof I was embarrassed but I should've kept it up. On Monday, after over six months of poor health, I was told I have leukemia and it might not even explain my poor health, so.... I kind of feel like posting whatever I want and not worrying so much about it, because life is shorter than we expect sometimes and why not do what makes us happy, man!!
> 
> I'll keep posting Gradence because writing them is something I love dearly and I'm really happy to see familiar names in my inbox now for this fandom. Thank you, to all of you, you've been so kind! <3 I truly hope you enjoy this one.
> 
> And thank you as always to [Erin](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelsallfire) who is a truly wonderful person and friend!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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